You’re my favorite, he’d said. Time and time again, as he adjusted her breasts and held her tight.
They walked a mile in silence, then Alina asked, "My internal calendar says I’ve been in stasis for fifty years. Is that correct, Person Coren?"
Coren was leading the way, using snow poles to test for unsafe areas. "Just call me Coren."
"I’m programmed for formality. Person is an appropriate title. Person also comes with a gender-neutral pronoun: per. Per talks to perself. Give it to per. Per went to the mall."
Coren grunted. "If it makes you happy, call me whatever. Can you be happy?"
"I’m programmed to mimic." Alina smiled widely. "I’m happy you rescued me."
"Stop that, it’s creepy." Coren stopped, dropped the sled straps, and rubbed per shoulders. "Here’s what I’d like. I’d like you to help me set up our tent. It’s getting dark and we better bed down."
The tent was big enough for two people to lie down inside and to sit up if they didn’t mind being a little hunched over. The light gray fabric blended in with the snow and provided a barrier against the bitter wind. Coren also had chemical heat-packs marked with faded letters, and thermal blankets to wrap perself in, and a small camp stove that per set up outside.
"I know how to build a campfire," Alina offered as they hunched beside it.
"No wood," Coren said. "You need to eat, right? You can eat stew?"
"My unit requires no nutrition. My nutrient reservoir sustains the fetus and needs to be augmented by a regular intake of calories."
Coren blinked. "So that’s a yes?"
"Yes, per. For optimal results at this stage of gestation, I should consume one thousand calories per day. If I were human, I would need much more."
Coren retrieved two unlabeled tin cans from the sled. The tops had been crudely welded on. Per opened them up with a can opener and revealed meat stew. "I don’t know much about calories, but it took me longer than I thought to find you. My supplies aren’t what they should be. We might have to skimp a little or find more to get where we’re going."
"Are you taking me to Mark and Dan? They’ll be worried about Con Leche."
"Con what?"
"The child’s nickname. It means with milk,’ as in coffee with milk."
"I’ve never had coffee," Coren said. "Besides, they’re dead, remember? Or, if they are alive, I don’t know where they are, or how to get you to them."
Alina said, "1721 Peach Tree Lane, Cragford, Georgia."
"We’re not going to Georgia, robot-girl." Coren warmed per hands over the warming cans. "That’s not my mission."
"Are you in the military, per?" Alina asked. "To my knowledge, the military does not accept soldiers of indeterminable gender."
Coren looked cross. "It’s not indeterminable. It’s just indeterminable to you. At least I have a gender. You’re just an It."
"I’m a She," Alina said. "To humanize the experience."
"Whatever you are, you’re still a robot."
"I’m well versed in chromosome disorders that can blur gender boundaries," Alina said. "I would alert on any fetus showing an XXX or XXY abnormality."
"Call me abnormal and you can sleep out in the snow tonight," Coren said.
"I don’t sleep, Person Coren."
Coren nudged a can off the stove toward Alina and handed her a fork. "Close your eyes and fake it."
"Wouldn’t it be better for me to keep an eye out for unfriendly people?"
"Are you programmed for self-defense?"
"I must protect the child in my womb." Alina paused as new information popped up in her databank. "During my stasis, someone outfitted me with knowledge of twelve martial arts systems and other hand-to-hand combat maneuvers. I can also strip, repair, and fire pistols and automatic weapons. In addition, I can wire and disarm explosives—"
Coren coughed around some of per stew. ‘You need all those skills to guard a little baby?"
"I think the information was mistakenly uploaded during my stasis."
"Or maybe someone saw the Big Freeze coming and thought you’d need it to survive."
Alina finished her dinner. "If you are not taking me to Dan and Mark, you will need their access codes."
"Their what?"
"To open my womb when Con Leche is ready. Only the parents have the authorization to access the child."
"What if the parents forget it?"
"In the absence of a security code, I would need remote authorization from my owners."
"Huh," Coren said. ‘You mean, your dead owners? From that complex that’s buried under ice, everything broken and dead?"
"Yes, per."
"So what happens if there’s no code and no authorization? How will the baby get out?"
"Dr. Ogilvy once said my womb was like a locked bank vault," Alina said. "The only way to open it under other circumstances will be to destroy my control center. But don’t worry, per. The baby won’t be ready for approximately thirty-five more weeks. I’m sure we will reach Mark and Dan by then."
After dinner was over, Coren said, "I’m going to go take a piss in the woods. You stay here, and don’t peek."
Alina waited by the sled and contemplated stealing more food. She calculated that her food intake had been three hundred and eighty calories. Not optimal. Her decision tree told her to use her reservoir and not alienate the human, but the reservoir would deplete quickly as Con Leche grew.
When Coren returned per asked, "If someone tried to hurt the baby, could you kill them? Or do robots have some kind of rule about not killing humans?"
"Protection of the fetus is my priority."
"So that’s yes on killing?"
"I have never had to make that decision," Alina said. "I believe I could."
Coren dug around in the sled and pulled out a sack of salted meat jerky for dessert. Per gave Alina some. One hundred twenty more calories. Coren asked, "What about deciding to flush it? Could you do that? You know, end it?"
"I am prohibited," Alina said instantly.
"I kind of thought you’d say that. Okay, look, I’m going to bed. You stay out here. Keep yourself amused. Wake me up if you see anyone, or any kind of animal we could eat." Alina saw no people or animals during the night. Instead she sorted through the new information that had been stored inside her. The self-defense knowledge was only part of a larger database about survival skills that included hunting, cooking and eating wild animals (difficult in this new climate, where many species had gone extinct); building winter shelters of snow and branches (but all the branches were coated with ice); and administering first aid to herself and to any injured humans.
The next morning, after a breakfast of canned peas, more jerky, and salted fish, they set off again. As Coren led her through the frozen wilderness to their classified destination, Alina asked, "Are there many humans left alive?"
"A lot, but I don’t know how many."
"How do they survive such arduous conditions?"
"It ain’t easy."
‘Yet you endured hardship, risked danger, and used precious supplies to find and retrieve me. Did Mark and Dan hire you?"
‘You remember what I told you about them?"
Alina sorted through her memories. "1721 Peach Tree Lane, Cragford, Georgia."
"Oh, boy," Coren said. "I think you’ve got a screw loose."
They spent the next few days trekking along old roads and highways. The stumps of old billboards protruded from the snow pack, along with the roofs of rest stops or fast food restaurants. Alina debated the possibility of burrowing through the snow to find frozen food supplies, but Coren’s digging equipment was limited. Occasionally Alina could see the frozen contours of cars beneath her feet in places where the wind had worn away the snow. Frozen drivers and passengers could be defrosted and cooked to provide nutrition for Con Leche, but she didn’t think Coren would agree to the idea.